


I Am His and He is Mine

by chryssadirewolf



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season 1, jorleesi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 01:37:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21291494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chryssadirewolf/pseuds/chryssadirewolf
Summary: Daenerys had been sold to Khal Drogo by her brother and the only one who seems to care about her well being, the only one she feels any tenderness towards is the exiled knight with a gentle heart, sky blue eyes, and golden hair.
Relationships: Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	1. A Small Thing Princess

The books themselves were old, tattered, and of no real value to Daenerys and certainly not to the Khal who would have burned them by now had Daenerys not put them away for safe keeping. The value of the books came not from their content or appearance but rather from whom they once belonged—Ser Jorah. They had been his books as a child and the last few items he had left of the life he once had on Bear Island. When he gave them to Daenerys on her wedding day, she felt as though he was giving her a part of himself which is why she treasured them. And in the evenings, whenever the Khal had finished with her and would finally fall asleep, she would slip carefully out from under him, take one of the books out from their hiding place, and read it, gently turning the pages and running her fingers over the raised lettering, caressing the pages as if she were caressing the man himself, the knight with sky blue eyes and golden hair whose heart she secretly carried in hers. Khal Drogo may have been her husband, but it was Ser Jorah to whom she had given her heart.

The hunting party had been gone for five days. Surely the animals they’d been tracking had not ventured that far from camp? Daenerys was starting to worry that perhaps something had gone wrong. She asked Doreah if it was normal for hunting parties to be gone so long and if there was a way to find out where they were. Thinking Daenerys was anxious about the Khal, Doreah assured her that he was probably enjoying the chase and thus prolonging it. Furthermore, if ever there was trouble, such as an encounter with rival Dothrakis, they’d kill the foreigner first before attacking the Khal. “Kill the foreigner first.” The very thought of Ser Jorah being killed made her eyes well up with tears and her heart ache. He was the only thing that made it all bearable, not to mention give her something to look forward to every day. If something had happened to him, if he had been killed—just then she heard the thundering sound of horses and men shouting. It was the hunting party. They had returned. With one swift motion Daenerys lept to her feet and was outside the tent. She tried not to appear as though she was looking for Ser Jorah among the many faces. Thankfully, her husband was too busy basking in the welcome they received from the Dothraki women to notice his wife scanning for that one face, the one with blue eyes. Finally she saw him and her relief turned to concern when she saw he had blood on his shirt. He had been injured. It took all her strength to keep herself from running to him, showering his face with kisses, and tending to his wounds.

******************  
It was late. The camp and the Khal were asleep as Daenerys, still awake, gingerly rubbed the bruises on her body. The Khal had been particularly brutal this evening with her. Blood sport always made him quite physical and in need of satisfaction with little to no regard of how much his ardour hurt his young bride. Ser Jorah had told her it would get easier but it didn’t seem as though it would, especially on nights such as this. As Daenerys continued to mindlessly rub her sore thighs, she wondered who was tending Ser Jorah’s wounds? She had learned that he was injured on the hunt when he tried to save one of the horses from being gored by a wild boar. The Dothraki thought him stupid and laughed when he was gored instead of the horse. Were it not for his usefulness as a translator and his skill as a swordsman, they would have left him to die. Their barbarism and cruelty made Daenerys’ blood run cold. She looked at the sleeping Khal. No doubt he would sleep well tonight. Looking around their tent, she found the salves Doreah had left for her, and bundled them in cloth to bring to Ser Jorah. He was still awake when she came to his tent and quietly called his name.

D: Ser Jorah? 

J: Princess, I am not dressed. *hastily grabs his shirt and winces as he tries to pull it over his head.

D: No. Don’t. *stops him from putting on the dirty tunic.* I brought some salves for your wounds Ser Jorah.

J: Thank you Princess. That is most kind of you.

D: *grimaces at the state of his tunic* I shall have Doreah wash this tomorrow. In the meantime, have you another tunic? *searches through his bags and pulls out another tunic* This one will do.

J: Yes Princess. I thank you for your kindness. It is quite late and I do not wish to trouble you further—

D: *ignoring his attempt to make her leave, she brings over his washbowl and a clean wash cloth by his bed* Turn around. There’s no point putting salves on your wounds if they are covered with dirt. 

J: Princess, I’m sure I can manage or perhaps one of your handmaids could do this.

D: Nonsense. I am here now.

J: Princess, it is not fitting for one such as you to be tending to me. I am low born—

D: You are hurt, Ser Jorah and though we may live among those who think the injured and sick should be left to die, we are not like them, are we?

J: No Princess.

D: Then let me do this small thing and I shall leave you to rest.

J: *turns his back to her so she can wash and tend to his wounds*

Ser Jorah knew better than to argue with Daenerys once she had her mind set on doing something. Thus he obediently turned his back to her so she could wash off the grime and grit that were embedded in his wounds and apply salve to keep them from getting infected.

There was something hypnotic about washing the dirt and dried blood from his back, Daenerys thought to herself. She had often admired his form and how fit Ser Jorah was. Whereas Khal Drogo’s muscles were so large they were almost grotesque, Ser Jorah’s were tight and sinewy. Everything about this knight was the mirror opposite of the Khal. He was fair while the Khal was dark; his eyes were as blue as the sky in daylight while the Khal’s eyes were dark as a night without stars. Most significantly, Ser Jorah was tender and gentle while the Khal was demanding and rough. Daenerys was so lost in thought that she almost forgot what she was doing until she heard him wince.

D: I’m sorry. I’ll be more gentle. I’m almost done at any rate. The salves have a numbing effect so it won’t sting like the soap. 

J: I am humbled and grateful khaleesi.

*Khaleesi* Daenerys much preferred it when he called her that instead of “princess.” Princess made her feel like a little girl whereas Khaleesi made her feel like a woman. She longed for him to see and treat her as a woman and there were times, such as now when she felt he did see her as an adult and not as a child. But those moments seemed fleeting. How she wished and often dreamed she had married him instead of the Khal. 

Ser Jorah felt guilty over how pleasing it was to be fussed over by her. She was, afterall, not only married but quite young, younger than Lynesse and he had learned a harsh lesson about what it was to love a beautiful young woman. Still, Daenerys was not Lynesse. She had a kindness about her that Lynesse never had and Daenerys was able to adapt to even the most squalid of circumstances and not complain. It saddened him to think of the life she would have to lead as the Khal’s wife. If she was his wife, her comfort and happiness would be paramount. But she was not his and never would be.  And yet, for this one moment in time, she was in his tent nursing him as tenderly as any wife, Jorah mused. Daenerys, too, allowed herself to pretend that Jorah was hers and she was his as she looked after him. “If only” they both thought to themselves, “if only.”


	2. If Only

Daenerys was in a foul mood, not that the Khal noticed or cared. He just assumed she was experiencing the periodic moodiness all women went through so he sought satisfaction elsewhere. Daenerys didn’t care. She was actually grateful the Khal was relieving himself with someone else. “Let her have to deal with the next-day bruises and soreness.” No, Daenerys was upset because Ser Jorah called her a child. All those nights she had spent tending to his wounds, bringing him flowers she had picked which he kept by his bed, all those stolen moments where he had opened up to her about his life made her feel as though he finally saw her as an equal, as a woman. But that was before they had quarrelled. They had never quarrelled before and in truth it was about something trivial but it hurt nevertheless. Of course, looking back she realises she had been childish and foolish to have gone off hunting with Doreah on their own, if only for small game. They could have been killed which is what Ser Jorah had said when he found them laughing like children in the tall grass, unaware of the slithering reptile that closed in on them. Luckily for them, he was able to cut its head off with his sword before it bit one of them. At first Daenerys was ever so impressed by his prowess until he berated them. It was uncharacteristic for him to raise his voice not just to Daenerys but at all. In fact that was one of the things she loved about him was how calm and gentle he was which is why she was shocked and hurt, not to mention angry.

D: How dare you speak to me in that tone. I’m a Khaleesi, first of my name.  
J: Then act like one and not some ignorant child frolicking about! That snake could have killed you, the both of you. *expression and tone softens* By the gods, what were you thinking?

At the time Daenerys did not realise his tone had softened as did his facial expression when he asked what she had been thinking because she was too angry. It was only now as she lay in bed that she began to see the day’s event differently. As her mood shifted, she decided to go see him. He was still awake, cleaning his sword when she walked into his tent without hesitation or announcing herself. She was determined to make him see she wasn’t a child but a queen by demanding he apologise. But the moment she came in, he stood and bowed to her.

J: Khaleesi.  
D: Ser Jorah.  
J: I want to apologise for raising my voice to you and Doreah this morning. It was not only disrespectful but unkind. I hope you can forgive me Khaleesi.  
D: The way he said *khaleesi* in that low grumble, made her body tingle. *Damn him* she thought to herself.

While it was true she and Doreah had acted foolishly and were it not for Ser Jorah, they probably would have died from that poisonous snake’s bite, nevertheless, she felt compelled to remind Ser Jorah of her status and his. “I’m the daughter of a king and married to a Khal,” she thought as she walked to Ser Jorah’s tent but whereas reminding herself that she was a princess boosted her confidence and strengthened her resolve to give Ser Jorah a good dressing down, remembering she was not only married but to Khal Drogo, made her feel sick. So much so that she very nearly turned around to head back to her tent. She nearly turned around but managed to stop herself from dwelling on her situation so she could refocus on the task at hand as she barged into Ser Jorah’s tent.

Ser Jorah seemed to have been expecting her because he was not only dressed but was back to being his calm and controlled self, even apologising to her for raising his voice. *Damn him for the way he made her feel when he called her “khaleesi” and for the way he looked*

Daenerys wanted to be angry and regal but all of those feelings instantly melted away the moment she saw him. Even in a dimly lit tent, she could see the glints of gold in his hair and the piercing blue of his eyes, not to mention his long and muscular legs, his chest, arms, shoulders, neck, face … gods he was intoxicating to look at. He triggered feelings and sensations she had never felt before and it both excited and frightened her, frightened because she sometimes wondered if everyone knew and could see how much she loved him, this knight of the seven kingdoms, this bear so fair.

J: Khaleesi.

His voice almost startled her, so deep in thought was she and mesmerised by the sight of him.

J: if you will allow me to make amends for this morning, I should like to give you this. * hands her a small and lightweight sword.* I had bought it years ago when … *looks down* … it was made for a small child but I thought you might … you could use it to practice with.

At first she thought he was implying once again that she was a child but when he looked down and she heard that slight catch in his voice … *he had bought it for his child, the one he thought he was going to have.* The sudden revelation made Daenerys want to wrap her arms around him and kiss away the sadness and heartache she sensed in her knight. Instead, she simply closed the gap between them and took the sword from his hands and softly said, “thank you, Ser.”

D: This is the second time you’ve given me something valuable.  
J: *shakes his head*  
D: *reaches up and tenderly strokes his face with her hand*

As was the case every time they opened up to each other and allowed the other a glimpse into their heart and soul, time stopped and everything and everyone just faded away and it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

Daenerys had not seen Ser Jorah for three days since that night he gave her the sword. As tender as their exchange was, it was quite chaste and yet, it felt more intimate and sensual than anything she had ever experienced with the Khal. All she did was stroke Ser Jorah’s face, letting her fingers revel in the feel of his beard while he stood there, looking at her and his lips slightly parted, inviting her to kiss them. And she would have kissed them had they not both been startled by the sound of the Khal laughing and engaging in drunken revelry as he left the tent of one of the many women who accommodated him.

Daenerys did not realise her hand was still on Ser Jorah’s face until she felt him gently take hold of it and bring it back down to her side. The gesture was simple but the intention was clear. Once again he was protecting her, this time from the wrath of the Khal should he see them together like that. For as innocent as their exchange was, it was rife with feeling, feelings neither of them could possibly express as it would mean certain death for Jorah and possibly Daenerys as well. Reluctantly Daenerys left the tent and went back to her own, tears welling up in her eyes at the hopelessness of their situation. It was maddening to love him so much, to see him everyday but not be able to speak or show her love. Moreover, she had to endure the humiliation and hurt she felt every time the Khal would exercise his rights as her husband. Were it not for the strength she found inside her when she was at her lowest points, she might have ended her life.

It had been three days since Ser Jorah had seen the Khaleesi. At first he thought she had gone hunting again with Doreah but Viserys let it slip that the Khal had allowed his sister to visit the nearby town in hopes that her mood would improve from the excursion not so much out of concern but rather because he was simply tired of her sullen behaviour. And indeed, the excursion did seem to lighten her mood for when Ser Jorah did see Daenerys again, she was smiling which made him happy.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he returned her affections but felt honour bound to never let on he did. It would serve no useful purpose after all for him to admit he had fallen in love with her since they could never be together. Still, he could at least be happy for her which he was at seeing her spirits raised from her trip into town. He could tell she was anxious to share her adventures with him but first she had to show the Khal what she had purchased not so much because he cared but out of deference and to keep up appearances.

It was only the next morning, while everyone still slumbered, everyone except she and Ser Jorah, that she was able to reveal the real reason for her lightness of being. Ser Jorah was tending to his horse when he saw Daenerys walking towards him, smiling with her hands behind her back. It warmed his heart to see her smiling.

J: Khaleesi. *bows his head* I take it your trip into town was pleasant?  
D: Indeed, Ser. I’d never seen so many wares for sale.

Ser Jorah listened as Daenerys gleefully described the sights and sounds of the marketplace, how there were animals and trinkets all being brought and sold, and how noisy it was with people bartering and shouting.

J: I’m glad you enjoyed yourself Khaleesi. It warms my heart to see you smiling again.  
D: Does it?  
J: Yes.  
D: Then perhaps you will not mind if I show you then what it was at that market I found that warmed my heart.

Taking her hands from behind her back, Daenerys slipped two intertwined bracelets on Jorah’s right wrist. One was light coloured, braided, and made of cloth while the other was made of leather and stamped. They appeared to have been made separately but then united by twining one with the other. Once again it felt as though time stopped but as the camp began to awaken, Daenerys said nothing more and went back to her tent. Looking down, Jorah examined the bracelets more carefully and saw that the leather one was not just stamped with a pattern, but lettering. In high valerian, the leather had been stamped with the words “I am his and he is mine.”


End file.
